Sunday, January 10, 2010

A bite-size crisis

"Are you going to try to eat me?" asks the younger of the visiting brothers when I open yet another packet of cookies, or candy, or chips, or biltong, or lunch bars, and stick it under his nose and prompt him to "EAT SOMETHING for goodness sakes!"

He is suspecting me of attempting to fatten him up, like what's-that-boy-in-Grimm-Hansel-someone, so that I can trick him into the oven in my gingerbread house and feast on him.

I'm not. I don't even like chicken that much (which is what people taste like according to Hannibal Lecter, I think? Or possibly that Argentine team that crashed their plane? I forget. Someone said chicken, right?). But just in case you were wondering where this blog was headed and whether prison or into hiding were some of those places, they're not. Sorry, I'm your garden-variety nut, not the murderous, wacko kind of loon, and although I would seriously want one, I'm fresh out of gingerbread houses, even the cheap, small kind. And I've never been a big fan of brown as an exterior wall coloring.

See! Not crazy after all.

But something is definitely going on, and while not a cookie-related, cannibalistic something, it's still creeping me out.

The only thing I can think of is: When did I become someone's grandmother? And whether this new development in my personality will also mean that wearing men's long underwear outside and accessorizing that awesomeness with a pair of rubber boots and an apron is something I'll find myself doing next (this might be in the genes)? And will I perhaps soon notice myself keeping crumpled euro-bills in my apron folds and slipping them to unsuspecting children whenever I get the chance? Alongside with cookies I've baked myself, but that accidentally have human hairs poking out of them, which I won't be able to see because of my failing eyesight (Ja. Also in the genes)?      

Is this where I'm headed?

Because there's no way I'll ever become one of those grandmothers who coif their hair every morning, wear Dior to the expensive, posh grocery store, accessorize that very same Dior with a little bark-y pooch, and have dinner with their still-alive friends before heading off to the theatre.

Oh no. I'll be the one whose breath alone will scare kids far and wide. And whose hard candy will have that weird pocket-fluff and other assorted goodness stuck on it.

I'm rattled. The visitors are driving me towards an existential crisis.

But on the upside, I saw a wild lion up close and it didn't eat me. And In my world that's some serious balance right there.


Excuse me? Are you the one who starred in the Lion King? No? Didn't think so. Although I must say the resemblance is uncanny. 

14 comments:

Bored Housewife said...

Feeding people doesn't make you an old bitty, it makes you a nurturing person. Food is love. You can feel free to feed me any time you want.

Lisa-Marie said...

I agree with Bored Housewife. I am nowhere near being an only biddy, as my epic hangover yesterday proves, but I feed and give tea to anyone in my house. It just means you love them.

Cyndy said...

Oh, no. I see you as the grandmother who will take the children to the mall ~ not for fluffy sweaters but for piercing! You might even help pick out a tattoo! You will be the one encouraging the child to "go for it!" sending a backpack with a map complete with circled cities for Christmas. You might have some old candy in the dish, but that will be because you were either too busy to change it, or they were much too yucky to eat, and you could not be bothered! The dish with chocolate covered espresso beans would forever be empty...

How 'bout that lion?!?!?! Amazing!! I am so glad that he did not eat you! He is beautiful...

Miss Footloose said...

About the granny you'll become, here's good tidings: It's all up to you. Free will and all that.

And about the lion: How very cool. I saw a deer earlier. Fortunately your lion was not in the neighborhood.

Middle Aged Woman Blogging said...

You can feel me any day! Then, I'll feed you! Better yet, let's go out to eat! Yes, I plan on being one of those grandmas who takes children to the museums and parks with wonderful statues and lay in the grass looking up at clouds and then painting with watercolors! I cannot wait!

Middle Aged Woman Blogging said...

feel me??? AAAH! You know I meant feed, right?

iasa said...

hahaha. I am laughing so hard at wearing men's long underwear outside, cuz i do that. i mean i wear capris over them. (what? it's cold and i have no long trousers).

It doesn't scare the kids away. as long as you have food they are willing to embrace your lovable eccentricities.

Myne Whitman said...

Been a while, just wanted to wish you the best for 2010. I like that shot of the Lion and the caption. LOL..

Lorna said...

In case you were wondering, frogs legs taste like bacon with a chicken consistency...I'm glad the lion didn't feast on you!

Eidothia said...

I am still laughing! Sometimes I wonder if all of us here in the blog world are a bunch of weirdos :)

Ellie said...

I spent a DAY cooking so I could feed people yesterday at a jazz festival. When did this happen to me?

Optimistic Pessimist said...

you're still more sane than my grandmother...which i guess isn't that hard, but still, you're sane.

Molly said...

no wine, excessive snacking ... hmmmm ...

gg said...
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